


Heart of the Charred Forest

by CWF



Category: Bionicle - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Unrequited Crush, crack ship, these tags hurt to type
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2019-03-05 19:37:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13394814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CWF/pseuds/CWF
Summary: Makuta observes a Ta-Matoran and accidentally comes across a revelation.





	Heart of the Charred Forest

**Author's Note:**

> In the summer of 2015 I reblogged a shipping meme and got a massive amount of pairings in my inbox. As it quickly descended into crack ships, I got an ask that said "We need a fanfic of Teridax and Kapura."
> 
> So of course, I took it upon myself to deliver it.

Makuta quietly observed the Ta-Matoran once again trekking through the charred forest, peering up through layers of rocks and earth. He let out a soft huff of a laugh as Kapura paced with unnatural slowness, amused by how this Matoran was even a part of the Ta-Koro guard. It was pathetic how low their recruitment criteria has dropped, almost to the point where any Matoran could simply waddle on in and come out with the job.

Well, it couldn’t be helped. Their numbers were steadily dwindling from increasing Rahi attacks and they were desperate, much to Makuta’s satisfaction.

But this Matoran in particular, how slow and strange he was compared to all the others in his village. He never paid attention to the mundane lives of the Matoran whenever he observed the surface, only for his own delight as the infected Rahi lay waste to the villages time and time again. Makuta took notice of Kapura by the thousandth or so time he slipped off to “practice” in the labyrinth of the dead remains of a forest, the grounds for one of the many battles against Makuta’s Rahi. It was almost annoying to Makuta that he did this every day, just agonizingly slow plodding for hours on end. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stop observing the infuriating pace of this pathetic Matoran, how boring it was being alone in a dark, dead place.

He willfully ignored his accidental introspection.

Makuta’s peripheral vision caught another Matoran entering the Charred Forest, another Ta-Matoran with a blue mask. Ah yes, they called him the Chronicler, a politer designation of “aimless wanderer.” He watched in amusement as Takua did just that, and Makuta chuckled to himself as Takua’s movements became more frantic at the realization that he was lost. How pathetic.

Takua’s line of direction began to converge on Kapura’s point, and Makuta craned his neck in mild interest at their impending interaction. A moment later he could hear their voices, the Chronicler asking too many questions and the strange Ta-Matoran giving cryptic answers. Makuta would’ve zoned out of their vapid conversation, but the topic strayed towards the master of shadows himself and he couldn’t help but be intrigued. Kapura spoke of him not in a hushed, fearful tone like everyone else, but rather casually. It was as if the mere idea of Makuta did not scare him, despite all he had done to terrorize the Matoran, despite the physical proof they were both surrounded by.

As Kapura elaborated on his destructive power, he spoke in such a matter-of-fact tone that Makuta couldn’t help but grin wickedly and nod in agreement. A Matoran that experienced his wrath and yet holds respect without fear? Either he was really foolish or uncommonly brave. Makuta suspected it was the former.

But, upon hearing Kapura’s next words, Makuta’s antidermis churned in flattery. He thought that the forest looks beautiful, scorched and black, the lively green foliage burnt to death. The flames that caused it, the very destruction Makuta caused, was also beautiful too. Makuta remembered that day well, the flames eating away at Mata Nui’s gift of nature, spreading like a red-hot pestilence and leaving snowy ashes in its wake.

Truly a beautiful sight.

Makuta stared up at the Ta-Matoran thousands of bio above. Sweet words did not sway him (easily), but he couldn’t help but feel a little frustration. How can he convince this Matoran to join him as Ahkmou so willingly had? Kapura was not a blank slate, and he followed the three virtues like every other insipid villager on this island. And yet, he spoke with such fearless sympathy, almost reverent if Makuta dared to embellish Kapura’s words.

It left Makuta stunned with a feeling he could not recognize. It was warm like anger and roiled like confusion. But much unlike his wispy antidermis, it bloomed with vigor in his hollow chest, disturbingly pleasant. He settled on “a new form of determination” for the time being. He will figure it out later once he has Kapura at his mercy.

Makuta stilled at that last thought. If he chooses to encounter Kapura directly, will he find something other than the darkness and destruction he was infamous for, possibly a humiliating weakness that this puny Matoran caused? He could not allow this. A growl rumbled in Makuta’s throat as he once again glared at the pair, the aimless wanderer leaving Kapura to his “practicing.”

He hoped that one of those charred trees fell on its mark someday.


End file.
